Dinner at Beca's
by Selene Elven
Summary: Chloe's neighbor really can't cook.
1. Lasagne & Chianti

**AN: Chloe and Beca getting to know each other through a series of meals. In this universe, they're about 24 and 21, respectively. Probably 13-14 chapters.**

 **Love,**

 **Selene~**

* * *

CHLOE slips off her heels as she closes the door to her apartment. With a relieved sigh, she flexes her feet, bending her stockinged toes against the fluffy carpet. She drops her keys and purse on the corner of her peninsula and heads to her speaker. She plugs her phone into the dock and sets to a random playlist. A smile makes its way onto her face as the opening twang of strings greets her ears, Etta James's 'I'd Rather Go Blind' filling her home.

She sings along with the legend as she strolls into her bedroom, undressing slowly as she goes. Buttons, one by one. The side zipper on her skirt. Chloe changes into loungewear, yoga pants and a loose t-shirt, brushing her hair back into a ponytail and exchanging her contacts for glasses. By the time she's done, she's crooning out the lyrics to 'At Last' and making her way into the kitchen. She's feeling like Italian food tonight, and all of the ingredients for lasagne greet her when she opens the fridge.

" _I found a dream, that I could speak to,_ " she warbles as she digs out the Dutch oven. Chloe begins to pile all of the ingredients on the counter, singing to them like they were her audience. She sways her hips as she turns the stove on to medium heat, letting the Dutch oven heat up while she organized what she'd need for each step.

As the cooking vessel sits on the stove, Chloe grabs the bamboo cutting board from where it hung by the sink, bopping her head to the jazzy music. She grabs a yellow onion and a couple of cloves of garlic, dropping them on the board. She says a little prayer before cutting into the onion, determinedly dicing it with expertise. After it's over, she sets it in a bowl and rinses off the board, proud that she only teared up slightly. The garlic is much easier to deal with, and she minces it quickly before tossing it in the same bowl and placing a plate over it to limit the amount of crying.

Once the Dutch oven is nice and hot, she opens the sweet Italian sausage filling, dumping the package into her heated pot. She follows that with slightly less ground beef. Chloe digs into the cooking meat with her wooden spoon, bringing the cooking utensil to her mouth to use the makeshift microphone appropriately, Nina Simone's 'Feeling Good' flowing through her speakers and through her muscles. She matches each tremulous note and soars through each clear phrase, breaking up bits of ground meat. Chloe sashays to her bowl of onions and garlic, upending it into the Dutch oven and tapping the side a few times to get everything.

" _I just might, have a problem, that you understand,_ " she sings, harmonizing with Bill Withers as she lets the food brown, " _We all need somebody, to lean on._ " Chloe fishes out her can opener from its drawer, singing about friends and leaning on them as she opens several cans of tomatoes in various states.

Crushed tomatoes go in with little fanfare. Her playlist shifts slightly in tone and ukulele and Israel Kamakawiwoʻole's voice comes on as she's cleaning out a can of tomato paste with a butter knife. She slides it around the walls of the can, scooping it out as cleanly as possible to the dulcet lyrics of 'Over the Rainbow'. After that, it's a jar of tomato sauce (because she's tired and this is already going to take forever, and good tomato sauce from scratch takes time) and half a cup of water. As it comes to a boil, Chloe tosses the cans and jars into the recycling bin and slides all of her seasonings closer to the pot.

There's sugar, basil, fennel seeds, oregano, parsley, salt, and pepper. Chloe wrinkles her nose as she tastes it, deciding to add a pinch more of salt and pepper each. Then she covers it and decides to go check her mail while everything literally stews.

Slipping on her sneakers and grabbing her keys, she heads to the elevator. It's a short ride down from the third floor to the main lobby. Chloe hums the entire way, bouncing on the balls of her feet and hands snug in the pockets of her pants. She's headed to the mail room when someone drops their books on the floor with a loud swear. A small detour won't change anything, and so she walks over and bends down to help the woman. She looks pretty harrowed.

"Here, let me help you," she says as she picks up a couple of sheets of paper that have flown a bit farther. Her glasses slide down her nose as she kneels and Chloe pushes them back up with her index finger. The woman smiles tightly, nodding her head shortly and quietly thanking her. "My name's Chloe. I live here," she informs pointlessly, cringing as she adds, "but you probably knew that." Chloe shakes her head. "Just the fact that I live here, not my name." She twists her lips off to the side, handing the brunette a thin book on music theory. The woman regards her bemusedly.

"Well, you could just be wandering the lobby. I wouldn't know otherwise." There's a teasing bite to her words, and it makes Chloe laugh. They both stand up and Chloe watches the brunette brush a strand of hair back over her ear, hugging her books to her chest.

"So, you're studying music theory?" The brunette nods.

"Yeah. Majoring in it. You?" Chloe leans her head to the side, looking at the woman in front of her.

"Graduated from the Institute of Culinary Education." The woman's eyebrows raise. "I get paid to drink lots of wine, too," she adds, to her companion's humor. "So..." She drifts off, looking pointedly and awaiting a name. The woman holds the books tighter in one arm, smacking her forehead with the palm of the other.

"Oh, right. Name's Beca." She sticks out her hand for Chloe to shake. Beca's hand is soft, and Chloe holds on a bit longer than she really means to. After a second, in which Beca seems to flutter in place awkwardly, she tips her head forward. "Right, well, I'm going to get going." She points over her shoulder with her thumb towards a solid wall and a ficus. "It was nice meeting you, Chloe." The redhead smiles brightly.

"Same to you, Beca. I hope to you see you around," she winks, tittering when the shorter woman blinks repeatedly and walks away without another word.

Her mail retrieval is otherwise uninteresting, a bill, some advertisements, and a letter from Grandma Beale in Illinois asking for her to come visit this Thanksgiving. Chloe isn't sure why she's asking six months in advance, but she doesn't question the methods of the elderly. She opts out of the elevator this time, jogging up the steps at an even pace. When she gets back to her apartment, she checks her phone to find a message from Aubrey. Chloe pouts when she reads the message.

 **Brey** : _Sorry Chlo, I can't make it tonight. The office has me working overtime._ The redhead types out a quick response, frowning as she sits down on the couch and clicks the TV on.

 **Chloe** : _Booo, noo :[_ She's about to send it, but decides to add extra sad faces to really emphasize how devastated she is. Dropping her phone next to her, she loses herself in mindless television shows for about an hour.

She eventually returns to check on her simmering meat sauce. Finding it to be satisfactory, she pulls out a bag of flour, wipes down her counter and washes her hands. Pouring a mound of flour onto her work surface, she creates a well in the center and cracks a couple of eggs into it. From there, she beats the eggs with a fork, gradually incorporating the flour until the dough begins to form. When the clump becomes too difficult to handle with the fork, she trades it out for her hands, kneading the rest of the flour into it until it becomes a ball. Chloe cleans her surface and dusts it with more flour, adjusting and kneading until it's smooth. She then covers it with a towel and lets it sit while she cleans up around the kitchen. She's gazing into her wine fridge when she starts to smell something burning.

At first, Chloe panics because she thinks that she's accidentally burned something. But after a quick check, in which there are no burning things in neither the kitchen nor the rest of the apartment, Chloe goes to open her front door.

The smell outside is stronger, and Chloe glances around, scanning up and down the hallway. She's about to go back inside when a door on the opposite wall two doors down opens and a bit of smoke comes out. Nobody exits, so she pulls on her sneakers again and heads toward the open door. Chloe peers inside. When she doesn't see anyone, she knocks and enters.

"Hello? Are you okay in here?" Chloe hears a window being opened and a hearty curse presumably flying out of the window as well. Someone comes around the corner, and Chloe's surprised to see that she recognizes the person. "Beca? What happened?"

Beca at first seems to be just as surprised, before she blushes. "I uh, made a fire." Chloe closes the front door and helps Beca open the rest of the windows.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that it wasn't on purpose?" Beca snorts.

"What gave it away? Was it the obscene amount of uncontrollable smoke?" Beca's wry expression as she fans a towel, encouraging the smoke to clear, is so close to a smirk that Chloe wonders if maybe this whole thing **was** on purpose. "Or maybe it was my sweaty forehead and panicked tone of voice a minute ago?" Chloe laughs.

"So what happened here?" Beca shrugs, going back to the kitchen as Chloe trails after her.

"I- so, this is probably going to be really embarrassing for me because you're like, a super chef, but," Beca scratches behind her ear and under her chin, "I was trying to cook." Chloe hums.

"What were you trying to cook?" She's got a joke on the tip of her tongue, about Beca trying to cook a disaster and succeeding, but she bites it back, instead just smiling. The way that Beca eyes her though, she might know that there's a tease hiding.

"I was **trying** to do something simple, just some pasta. But as you can see, it didn't quite work out," Beca crosses her arms, glaring at the pot in the sink. Chloe guesses that it's black at the bottom.

"Why don't you come over to my place?" She interrupts Beca's suspicious look, "I'm making lasagne." A brown eyebrow lifts, questioning. "I'm just about to roll the dough out and layer the dish." The other eyebrow goes up.

"You're making pasta from scratch?" Chloe scoffs.

"I graduated from a culinary school. **Of course** I'm making pasta from scratch." Chloe puts a hand in her pocket and adjusts her glasses with the other. "So? What do you say? Unless you want to eat..." She gestures at the pot, " **that**." Beca bites her lip, and Chloe's eyes dart to them before flying away to the window.

"Um," the brunette shakes her head, "you know what? Yeah. Yeah, let me just clean up here and I'll... I'll be over." Chloe hops in excitement, clapping her hands together.

"Awes!" She tells Beca her apartment number and lets her know to just come in when she's ready.

Chloe's feeding the pasta through the roller when Beca finally arrives. The shorter woman is wearing a different set of clothing, sweat pants and a band shirt. She's got her hair in a messy bun, pinned with a pencil, and sandals that she discards at the door. She looks impressed, ambling over and seating herself on the other side of the peninsula.

"I was going to bring something, but then I realized that I didn't know what to bring and I didn't want to offend you with something tasteless like cheap wine," she informs blandly, smirking when Chloe laughs loudly.

"That's fine. I can give you lessons on food **and** wine." Beca rests her chin on the back of her hand.

"Feeding my stomach **and** my mind? Should I be paying you?" It sounds like the brunette's flirting, but she blushes prettily when Chloe winks and says nothing. And it looks a lot like a big game with very little punch behind it. She laughs again.

"Consider your company to be adequate payment," Chloe informs as she lays out the finished dough, cutting it into equal lengths with a roller and stacking them with a light dusting of flour in between. "My friend couldn't make it tonight, and there's no way I could eat this entire dish on my own."

"Here I thought I was special. Turns out you're just trying to dump your leftovers on me." Chloe preheats the oven and sets a baking dish on the counter. She then sets a pot of water on the stove, turning the heat on high and turning back to Beca.

"Hey. Free food is a special thing. Don't feel diminished," she reassures Beca's rolling eyes, tossing salt into the water as it comes to a boil. "Unless you'd rather not have any." Beca shrinks back.

"Uh, no, I'm good. Thank you for having me." Beca rubs her hands together on top of the counter, lips quirking and eyes just on the edge of winking. Chloe breathes through the fluttering in her belly, dropping the noodles into the water separately. Her glasses fog up and she slides them to rest on top of her head. Beca watches her silently.

"Wow, those take no time at all to cook," she mutters as she observes Chloe moving about. The redhead nods, setting them aside to dry and opening a container of ricotta. She cracks an egg, dumping some chopped parsley and seasoning the mixture as she stirs.

"Yep! Fresh noodles are so much better. The taste is incomparable." When the ricotta is done, Chloe begins layering. She glances up from her work when Beca's tapping on the counter becomes more pronounced. "Are you alright there?" Beca's head snaps up.

"Oh! Yeah. I just feel weird watching you do everything, dude." Chloe nods her head at the baking dish she's currently layering.

"You want to help? It's pretty easy. There's a pattern you follow and everything. No burning required," she teases. Beca drops her brow to level Chloe with an expression that tickles her more than anything.

"Make fun of the less talented, why don't you." Chloe blows a kiss and moves to the side as Beca washes her hands and joins her by the dish. "So, I just, put stuff here?" The redhead hums encouragingly, watching with gleeful eyes as Beca lays noodles over the meat sauce and cheese. The brunette's focus is intense, like she's afraid to mess it up, and Chloe's heart does a little dance in her chest at how nervous she seems. She doesn't mention the slight shaking of Beca's hands. Chloe claps when it's all done, and Beca sighs noticeably.

"You did a great job!", she praises, covering the baking dish and sliding it into the oven. "Now we just wait a bit." Beca hums.

"Mmm. How long?" Chloe goes back to her wine fridge.

"Forty minutes, roughly." The last bit of her sentence is drowned out by Beca's groaning.

"That's forever!", she whines, much like a child. Chloe laughs quietly as she selects a bottle.

"You'll live. At least you aren't eating charcoal." She pulls a couple of wine glasses out after giving Beca a questioning glance as to whether she'd like wine and receives a nod in response.

"That's mean." Chloe shrugs, popping the bottle.

"Truth hurts, Beca." She leaves the wine on the counter and heads back over to her living room, the brunette following in her wake. "Music, or TV?" Beca seems to ponder the question for a minute, shifting her head between the two choices before picking music.

"I really hope you have good taste in music, or else this is going to be awkward." The redhead unlocks her phone.

"What kind of music do you like?" When she gets no response, she turns back around.

"Music is kind of my 'thing'," Beca says, making air quotations. "I like a lot of music." Chloe scrolls through her music.

"We'll just go for a list of popular songs, then." Chloe picks an internet station, smiling as 'Titanium' opens. Judging from Beca's face, she seems to appreciate it.

"David Guetta. Good choice. And you can't really go wrong with a voice like Sia's." Chloe rounds the couch, sitting down on it as Beca mirrors the position, turning to face the redhead. "So." Chloe smiles.

"So?" Beca fidgets, tapping her hands on her knees.

"Please don't tell me we're going to sit here and stare into each other's eyes or something," she mutters nervously. Chloe's got a wild smile that's hard to put a lid on, and Beca's brow drops. The redhead leans forward, hand on the couch between them.

"What's wrong with a little heavy eye contact?" Beca reaches up and pulls at her ear, and Chloe stares at the bar that runs through the top. She watches the brunette's fingers trace along the metal, and she forgets that she was teasing Beca.

"It's creepy." Chloe's eyes zip back. She covers her slip-up with a smirk.

"Wanna get creepy with me?" Beca shakes her head, shoving Chloe's shoulder as the redhead laughs at her.

"Dude, you're so weird."

"Thanks!"

After some not-creepy light conversation, Chloe goes to pour a glass of wine for herself and Beca. When she returns, Beca studies the glass she's been presented with, before drifting those ridiculously attractive eyes over the redhead. Chloe sips the wine to give herself some time.

"Tell me about this wine. Educate the masses," she clinks her glass against the redhead's. Chloe licks her lips to remove any traces of wine, and because she's already looking at Beca's eyes, she catches when they dip. Neither of them mention it, and Chloe moves on. Holding up the wine, she swirls it around.

"Well, this is a Chianti. Obvs, it's a red wine," ignoring Beca when she mockingly parrots back the "obvs" with a serious expression and the tiny smirk hiding out at the corner of her lips, "and it's from the Chianti region of Italy." She studies the wine again.

"It's at least eighty percent Sangiovese grapes. It's occasionally blended with Cabernet, Merlot, or Syrah." Chloe taps her nail against her glass. "This is a Chianti Classico. It's considered to be more refined because it's produced only from grapes from the best vineyards."

"Oh, are you refined?" Beca needles. Chloe laughs.

"It was a gift, but yes, yes I am. Like I said, I get paid to drink wine, Beca." She takes a sip.

"Was this wine a deliberate choice?" She nods at the question.

"This wine pairs well with our current dish. It's earthy and rustic. Totes blends with lasagne." When Beca takes a sip as well, Chloe asks, "doesn't the taste remind you of cherries and strawberries?" Beca hums.

"It reminds me of wine, dude." Chloe sits up.

"No! Come on! Think about it! Swish the wine around in your mouth and give me an honest answer!" Beca leans back, eyebrows high.

"Calm down there. It's," the brunette takes another sip, letting it sit on her tongue. Chloe's pleased that she seems to be honestly judging it. "I mean, yeah, now that you mention it, I kind of do." She looks surprised at her own assessment.

"See? There's a whole wide wine world out there, just waiting for you to taste it," she quips. Beca snorts.

"It's not my first drink of choice, but it's not bad. It suits you, though." Chloe stands up to go check the food.

"Oh?" Beca walks behind her, bringing her wine with her and sitting at the peninsula again.

"Yeah. You seem like that kind of classy woman. Someone who drinks wine and slow dances." Chloe grins, pleased, and blushes as she pulls the lasagne out of the oven.

"You flatter me, Beca." Beca smiles back.

"Am I wrong? Do you hate slow dancing?"

"What if I like slow dancing, but I'm not classy?" The brunette chuckles.

"You're classy. Just take the compliment." Beca fiddles with the stem of her wine glass, head down and lips turned up. Chloe bites her lip and goes to get a couple of plates.

Two pairs of blue eyes dash back and forth as the food is plated, meeting and skittering away before finding each other again. And Chloe didn't really have this in mind when she invited Beca over, but she can't say that she's not pleased at how this evening is turning out. They're back at the couch, on opposite sides, facing each other and making easy conversation. She smiles brightly when Beca admits to how well the Chianti and lasagne pair.

She briefly wonders how she'd pair with Beca before knocking that thought away.

It's a laborious task, one that is revived with every bite that Beca takes, because the woman's outbursts are borderline inappropriate. She moans again, chewing with obvious relish. "Ohhh my God," Beca mumbles at the end of her bite, vision obscured by the constant fluttering of eyelashes.

Temptation is something that Chloe deals with pretty well. She's practically a physical manifestation of it and so she's familiar with the tug, that itch that sits in her fingers and whispers in her ear. She's got that ability to inspire it in other people. But Beca is flipping her grip on the part of her brain that controls her urges, unconsciously picking at the ropes that tie it all back, and Chloe pokes at her food with more force than the action calls for, studiously concentrating on every nuance of the dish. She's trying to translate the ingredients into another language when the brunette sighs heavily, and the sheer amount of relief in the exhale makes Chloe's eye twitch.

"I'm assuming the lasagne is good?" The words barely make it beyond her lips, pursed and amused and a bit exasperated. Beca drains her wineglass.

"Good doesn't even cover it. You are a master of the kitchen." Beca praises like she means it, like she's already contemplating, in no small measure, the dimensions of a statue in Chloe's image. The redhead shifts in her seat and sets her plate down to refill her wine. After topping them both off, she tucks her legs under herself and turns to face Beca on the couch. Her companion does something similar, tucking one leg and leaving the other to swing and occasionally fidget. Chloe traces over the lip of the glass before speaking.

"I'm glad you decided to take up the offer, Beca. I really enjoyed the company." Beca swirls her wine and takes a sip.

"Me too. It was fun. You're the first person I've met who lives here and isn't crazy," the brunette comments. Chloe unsubtly eyes the woman in front of her, and is rewarded with a reproving glare.

They have another glass of wine before Chloe's starting to feel a little too relaxed, and from the way Beca's resting her head on the back of the couch, she'd guess the brunette is in a similar state. She sets her wine on the coffee table and takes her glasses off, perching them on top of her head again and reaching forward for Beca's hands when she's also no longer holding her glass.

"We should do this again sometime!" Beca smiles and agrees.

They get up and Chloe walks Beca to the door after waving off her attempts to help clean up. They're hanging in the open doorway now, full and a bit sleepy. Chloe presses her head against the wall, watching as Beca pats herself to make sure she has her things. At the end of it all, Beca seems to indecisively shift back and forth, before nodding and turning to look at Chloe.

"Right. So. I think you're awesome." Chloe keeps her mirth inside, encouraging Beca to continue speaking. "I hope we can hang out without me burning any pots." The redhead laughs, leaning closer.

"I would hope so. I'll see you later?" Her eyes drop. When she brings her gaze back up, she jumps a little when she sees that Beca's been watching her, eyebrow raised.

"Yep," Beca replies distractedly. And when the brunette's hand brushes Chloe's arm, she realizes with a start that they've gotten a lot closer without any conscious movement on her part. Chloe stands up straighter, brushing her hand over her hair and running her fingers through the end of her ponytail.

"Have a nice night, Beca." The shorter woman's eyelids flutter a lot before she shakes herself out of whatever stupor she'd fallen into, leaning back and smiling. She nods and backs out of the doorway, slowly drifting down the hall and to her door. Chloe watches until Beca unlocks it, and grins widely when her new friend winks at her before slipping inside and closing the door.

Chloe's made lasagne dozens of times. But this time, everything seemed to taste so much better.

* * *

 **AN: Bill Withers - Lean On Me**


	2. Lo Mein & Beaujolais

**AN: I'm pleased by how well-received this story was! At the very least, a lot of folks watching it.**

 **Some points: I am not Italian. I've just been doing a bunch of research for this story. I literally read recipes and my notes on wine as I write.**

 **Everybody lives in New Jersey, but Beca (and Jesse) to school in New York. The title of this story was inspired by _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ , if that wasn't obvious. Also, you all might notice a difference in this chapter. Namely, it's much more detailed and whatnot. That's because I've been listening to classical music (the reason for which will become apparent) and that shiz totally works. I had words and everything!**

 **Enjoy the chapter, lol. Love, S.**

* * *

"So you knock on this one, too?" The store employee shakes his head.

"No, you smell this one." Beca's eyebrows ascend.

"And what about this?" She holds up a tomato.

"You just feel that one. You could also smell it, though." She groans in pained frustration, confused and feeling defeated.

"Why is this so difficult?" There were so many different protocols for determining the ripeness of fruit, all involving molestation or seemingly abusive tactics. Beca places the tomato back among its peers. "This is why take-out is my friend." The guy chortles before going back to his produce cart. She watches him arrange bunches of broccoli for a few seconds, contemplating ordering a pizza.

She's wandering the produce section like a lost child when a voice sounds from over her shoulder.

"Oh, shiitake mushrooms. Don't they look cute?" Beca spins around to the sight of her ginger neighbor and her bright blue eyes. She turns back to the mushrooms.

"I mean, I guess. They're not puppies, or anything." Chloe seems unaffected by her lack of enthusiasm, slipping by to examine the fungi herself.

"I think they're cute as buttons," she winks at Beca. And she gets it, that Chloe's making a joke about button mushrooms and standing with her tongue under her teeth, biting down a smile as she waits for the brunette to laugh.

"Lentinula edodes." Chloe's brow wrinkles, looking adorably confused and Beca points at the mushrooms. "Shiitake. Latin name Lentinula edodes," she repeats for clarification. The redhead nods.

"You like mushrooms?" Beca shrugs.

"My mom's a mycologist." She picks up a medium-sized mushroom, handing it to Chloe when the redhead faces her fully. "Did you know that there's a mushroom strain called 'penis envy'?" Chloe laughs loudly and her shocked amusement makes Beca smile as well.

"What?" She grasps Beca's elbow lightly, caressing with her fingertips and the brunette shrugs a shoulder as a tingle sweeps up her arm.

"Yeah. Totally a real thing."

"You're not kidding?" Beca shakes her head, stilling when the redhead tightens her grip on Beca's elbow. "Is it edible?" Her eyes sparkle with humor.

"It's um, it's debatable," she hedges, glancing around when Chloe leans closer.

"And what on Earth does that mean?" The redhead looks like she's waiting for a secret, all glittering gaze and coquettish smile. Beca can only oblige such a mischievous tone. However unwillingly it happens. Which isn't too much.

"Psilocybe cubensis," and from the way Chloe's staring at her, she doesn't get it, "it's... uh. It's a **special** mushroom," her eyes get a little sharper, "the strain is um, it's called 'penis envy' because," Beca shifts her feet, "because obviously it looks like a certain thing." She scratches her chin. "A large kind of thing that the less-endowed would, obviously, be envious of. Hence the name." God, why is she even still talking. "My mom thought it was really funny when she told me. I was like, sixteen at the time and we were having a conversation about urges and the body," it's all word vomit and Chloe isn't stopping her. "She made a terrible mycology joke and honestly, I think she brings it up as often as possible because of how uncomfortable I get." Beca starts to bag some of the shiitakes out of some auto-pilot urge to preserve what little is left of her dignity through mindless movement.

"Beca." She's not sure if she needs as many as she's getting.

"Hm?" What's she even going to do with all of these?

"Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?" Beca stops at about half a pound, dropping the bag into her basket.

"I'm not sure what you think I'm telling you." Chloe's eyes glint.

"Define 'special', please." Beca wanders down the refrigerated aisle, eyes unseeing as she pretends to consider the vegetables.

"I feel like, if you're asking, then you probably know." Chloe hums.

"I guess that's some," the redhead winks, tone spinning towards salacious, "pretty amazing penis, if it's giving you visions." Beca groans loudly and shuts her eyes.

"Jesus," she mutters. Beca turns back to the fresh produce, observing them as they get misted. Once the sprinklers are done with their job, she picks up a snow pea. Chloe follows her, plucking it from her hand and studying the snow pea.

"What are you making?"

"I'm not sure. I'm just getting things." Because honesty is the best policy.

"Are you going to be able to cook it?"

"Yes." **Most** of the time, honesty is the best policy.

"Huh." Chloe's smirk reeks of disbelieving amusement. She rubs her thumb over the pea, considering it for one reason or another. After a minute or so, she turns to Beca.

"How about you come over for dinner tonight? We'll do something with those mushrooms you're buying." Beca nods, and Chloe starts to bag the snow peas, a small smile on her face. She watches the redhead's cheeks flush slightly as she picks out her vegetables. She hasn't really seen Chloe in about a week. After that first dinner, they only passed each other in the hallway once, both busy. When the redhead waves her hand in front of her face, Beca blinks twice.

"What?" There's a soft look in Chloe's eyes. A kind of fondness that Beca isn't sure what to with because she doesn't really know Chloe all that much. But it dredges up a responding warmth, and so she smiles.

"I asked what you were in the mood for." Her shoulders rise in blasé acceptance of whatever the redhead might want to cook. Beca would probably burn the pot with the stove off.

"As long as it's edible, I'm sure it'll taste great." Chloe's got mad chef skills so great that Beca can't even see the bottom of that tower. Her worst probably far exceeds Beca's hopes of best. Chloe seems to ponder the answer, glancing between ingredients before narrowing her eyes at the things they're in front of. She grabs some scallions, raising and lowering her hand like she's weighing the vegetable.

"Chinese sound good?" Beca watches the redhead swing the bunch around lightly, like she's saging the air around herself.

"Sounds like a plan." And when Chloe smiles like it's the sweetest thing Beca's ever said, it makes her inexplicably more excited than she ever thought she'd be. The scallions are snagged and placed into her own basket. "I'll buy the ingredients, since you're cooking." When Chloe opens her mouth like she's going to argue the point, Beca cuts her off with a high noise at the back of her throat. "Chloe."

"Yes?" Beca uses her most serious expression.

"If I cook," and Chloe's already laughing, eyes bright and smile large, "if **I** cook. There will be fire." She plucks the bag of snow peas from Chloe's basket as well. "There will be smoke," she continues over the huff, her own lips pulling up at the corner, "there will be terror," Chloe's shaking her head and rolling her eyes, "there **will** be casualties." Her body sways from the redhead's playful shove to the arm. When she's back to level, she comes with a warning, "unending devastation. And I don't think you want to responsible for **that** , now do you?"

Chloe laughs louder.

"You make it sound like there's going to be a wildfire, Beca." Chloe strolls away, saying something about sauces that she misses the details of, because the redhead tilts her head back to wink.

And the way that wink hits her, Beca thinks that there's maybe already a wildfire.

* * *

Beca takes the ingredients home with plans to meet up and make dinner together. She leaves it all in the grocery bag that Flo insisted she always take with her, a dark blue reusable bag that had a cartoon bowl of guacamole with eyes on it and 'Guac!' written in a startling neon pink, and stuffs the whole bag into the fridge on the bottom shelf. A quick nudge with her foot closes the refrigerator.

She makes her way over to her sound system and snaps her phone into the dock for a soundtrack to her tidying the apartment. Just as the beginning notes of the piano's first solo passage from Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24 come through the surrounding speakers, she hears a knock at the door. Before she can even open it, Jesse's voice makes it through the solid barrier, a whistling that accompanies the music in the background. She's turning the knob just as the brass instruments jump back in and it makes the moment more dramatic than it needs to be.

"Ah, the classics," Jesse starts as soon as she's got the door cracked. "Impeccable taste, my dear lady." He bows deeply, one arm behind his back and the other swirling in front of him with a flourish as he captures her fingers and places a kiss to her knuckles. Beca swirls her eyes in her sockets, snorting at his antics. "You are displeased, Your Highness?" She snatches her hand from his grasp to shove at his head, disturbing the style, and blocks her doorway by leaning into the frame.

"What's up, weirdo?" His grin reads only charm and adoration, rather than offense.

"Just wanted to see what's going on. Hang out with my sister from ano-" She swipes at him, grunting when he doesn't budge an inch.

"I'm not going to be home for very long," and as soon as it's out of her mouth, she knows it's the wrong thing to say, because Jesse's like a dog with a very meaty bone.

"Why not?" She tries to affect something careless. Aloof. Bored. Completely uninteresting, and it's as if he's a very particular breed of dog. A bloodhound with a new scent to track, rather than a lapdog with a broken nose.

"Oh, I'm just headed out." She's trying to casually change the subject, but he's not biting. "So, about the-"

"Headed where? Can I join you?" He's such a boy. Just a giant boy in a man's body, all swinging arms and cheesy grin, reading signs like he had no eyes. It's an endearing trait, most of the time. This is not one such occasion.

"Uh, no. I'm actually- Just no." Beca shifts, thinking of ways to throw the scent without being obvious.

"Why not? I thought I was your best friend!" He's insisting like it's going to get him anywhere.

"' **Was** ' being the operative word," she mutters, snorting when he acts mortally wounded.

"So fickle, to cast me aside when it suits your winter soul." Jesse's throwing around words and phrases in character like he just stepped out of a book full of poetry. Sadly for him, Beca's got a heart of prose at the moment, so she rebuffs his attempts at insinuating himself into her plans. And with all of the timing of one of those rom-coms that Jesse likes so much, her neighbor's door opens and out strolls Chloe, looking every bit a solid 9.9, and that's only because she just burped rather loudly. The redhead spots them in the doorway, arguing like highly articulate children.

Beca's got eyes, and they work. Not as well as her ears, but they're still functioning. She can discern hues and shapes, shades and forms. She can spot a deer in the woods during a car ride and she can pick out people in the crowd. Her eyes work, and so she knows that everything she's looking at is real. It's the way she sees it that makes her question, because Chloe seems to be **sur** real. From the way Jesse's face relaxes, Beca thinks that maybe he's wondering the same thing.

Chloe's walking towards them and her hair looks like it's being blown backwards by a breeze that doesn't exist because they're in an enclosed hallway. But it's swaying and mussed and Beca can't be sure that there isn't some giant hole in the building that's letting in a massive gust. The redhead's hips are swaying like Shakira's singing her song about that particular bodypart and how they don't lie, and it's playing in Beca's head on blast. She finds her mouth quite abruptly dry and her throat parched. She derisively jokes about being thirsty before shaking that ludicrous thought out of her head and shaking it literally as well for good measure. Chloe stands in front of them, stupidly attractive with her glasses perched on what Beca absently describes as an adorable nose. And really, there are too many adjectives and too many delirious thoughts that are flying through her mind at the moment.

"Uh, hey!" Beca's not a frog, but from the way she croaks, nobody would be able to tell the difference. Jesse smiles at the redhead, nodding even though no one has spoken to him yet, wrapping the fingers of one hand around his arm and kicking the floor with the toe of his shoe. Chloe grins back, offering her hand to shake his before dropping her electric blue eyes on Beca.

"Hey there, you. I was wondering when you wanted to come over?" She turns to Jesse. "I'm Chloe, Beca's neighbor." Jesse's response is way too excited.

"Hi! I'm Jesse. I go to school with Bec." Chloe nods. Beca watches them making conversation for a few minutes before deciding to butt in when she clues in to the fact that Jesse's voice has dropped half an octave. He's talking to her with a deep rumble, tone like smooth jazz, and Beca wants to take the needle of a record player and scratch straight across the vinyl. She's not about to call 'dibs' on a human being, but she's got a boot with Jesse's name on it, and it feels like time to kick him to the curb.

"Okay, that's enough chit-chat in my doorway. Be gone, you," she pushes rather obviously on Jesse's chest, 'encouraging' him to depart with a tad more force when he merely chuckles and hugs her.

"Why are you trying to get rid of me? Trying to hide something?", he questions jovially, an arm still over her shoulders. Chloe's eyes track the interaction.

"Yes. Your presence no longer pleases me, peasant." Jesse's unfazed by the direct dismissal, squeezing her shoulders.

"My lady?", he speaks over her violent rebuke of his terminology, "what might you be hiding?"

"An **axe** , that I will soon be hiding **in** you, you buffoon." She shoves out of his embrace, hoping that her candor might convey her desire for him to just please leave. "Now go. Next time, call before you try to sit in at an event you weren't invited to."

"But you **are** admitting there's an event, then?" She rolls her eyes, smiling begrudgingly when he starts humming Three Dog Night's 'One (Is The Loneliest Number)' as he starts to back away.

"Nothing that concerns you, that's for sure." With a quick and sincere hug, Jesse's off, probably to track down Benji for a guys' movie night or something. Chloe looks pensive, nibbling on her lower lip and energy muted. Beca stands up straight, readjusting her body and her focus towards the redhead.

"Sorry about that, Jesse's basically a big kid," she explains unnecessarily. "Did he make you uncomfortable with his weird voice thing? I can like, whack him with a newspaper or something the next time I see him." Chloe's attention returns with a smirk and a chuckle.

"No need. He was fine," and part of Beca wants to absurdly ask **how** fine, "wasn't bothering me or anything." Beca nods. "When did you want to come over? I don't know what time you normally do dinner."

"We can do it now. Not like I'm really up to anything anyway." Mozart is still streaming through her surround sound system, which Chloe seems to just now be hearing.

"You like classical music?" Beca smiles.

"Yeah. My concentration is in Concert Composition." Chloe's got her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her jeans like they're suspenders, rocking back and forth like an innocent cartoon character.

"That's cool," and the way that the redhead says it, it's honest and honestly a little surprising because most people were unexcited about the subject. "You're totes cool." Beca ushers Chloe in as she goes to fetch the ingredients.

"Glad you're not bored to tears by it." Chloe's hum is negative.

"I think it's interesting. Complex. I wouldn't even know how to go about trying to compose something like this." She lifts her hand, palm up like she's trying to collect water, slowly twirling about in the middle of Beca's living room as she listens to the music. "Who is this?" Beca places the bags on the counter.

"Mozart. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart," like he really needed that extra detail to distinguish him. She grabs her phone and shuts the music off. "This is his Piano Concerto No. 24," Beca adds as they walk to the front door and she locks it. "It's one of only two minor key works. Kind of bummed that there aren't more, to be honest." Chloe's nodding as she unlocks her door. "Of all of his concertos, that piece actually uses the biggest orchestra." The redhead pins her with an indescribable look as she goes into her own kitchen. Beca tails her and throws out more words. "It's actually very well known. People say it was one of Beethoven's favorites. One of mine, too."

Chloe sorts through the ingredients after a brief inspection of the bags the groceries are sitting in, the first being the guacamole bag she kept in the fridge and the second, with the sauces, being a light gray bag that had random cursive printed across it like it's been stamped with the wet pages of a mid-eighteenth century diary. Understandably, the 'Guac!' gets a bit more attention, to which Beca merely shrugs at when Chloe hikes a brow in question.

"Guac rocks, dude." Chloe's eyes simply squint with humor.

Beca rounds the peninsula, helping her neighbor with the unpacking. She really has no idea what to do aside from lining things up. Beca holds up a bottle.

"Oyster sauce. Is it made from oysters?" She turns the bottle around, studying the bottom like it'd divulge the answer. Chloe's washing all of the produce except for the mushrooms and Beca hears her response above the running water.

"Yep. They do some funky things and make some funky sauce." Beca puts the bottle back down.

"Sounds... funky." Chloe barks out a laugh, shaking her head as she sets everything in a colander to dry.

"Wanna help me make the noodles?" Beca's eyebrows go up.

"We're making noodles from scratch again?" She really shouldn't be so surprised, but she is. Chloe digs out a bag of flour and slides the carton of eggs over, plucking three and rinsing them before setting them on a towel next to the bag as she cleans the counter off.

"Have fresh noodles enough times, and you won't be able to go back to dried, Beca." Chloe's slipping on a chef's coat, and Beca's being forced to admit, even if only in her mind, that it looks good. She watches the redhead retie her hair, setting it up in a ponytail before going and washing her hands. Chloe's just about to start making the dough, but then she glances up and their eyes meet.

There's a little pocket of time that's lost in the connection, a strange tiny moment that could be a second or ten minutes, where they just stare at each other and Beca has no idea what Chloe's thinking but her own mind is completely blank, devoid of words in a way that confuses her. Her phone rings in her hand, startling her with the vibration, and the reflex to nearly launch the device brings her back. And it feels like she should say something to break whatever tension is going on, but Chloe beats her to it.

"So, do you want to help me make the dough?" Beca stands up on impulse before she fully hears the question.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Because there's probably some aspect of this that she could ruin. Chloe, however, remains optimistic.

"There's no fire involved. I'll be right here, watching," she says, soothingly, like Beca's some sort of stray that needs coaxing. Beca rolls her eyes.

"You're asking for me to prove that I could create flames where there is no heat. Got it," Beca responds as she goes to wash her own hands.

"Probably hot enough between the two of us to make a fire," Chloe quips, winking as she makes her way to her music. "Do you mind if we listen to that thing you were playing at your place?" Beca mumbles her reply, busy trying to figure out what exactly the redhead meant.

"Sure." She watches Chloe in the living room, scrolling through her phone and setting up the music.

She remembers her first dinner with the redhead a week ago. How she'd left a pot of noodles boiling on the stove as she worked on a project for her class. She lost track of time, and all of the water had boiled down until there was only pasta burning into a giant lump at the bottom. There was no salvaging that pot, but the exchange was well worth the sacrifice. The first movement of Mozart's 491st composition starts, and Chloe comes to stand next to her.

"Ready to get your hands dirty?" Chloe seems so much more excited for this task than Beca is.

"Lead the way, Captain." The redhead hands her an apron. It's red and white checkered, and part of her feels like she's a walking picnic table. But Chloe makes a comment about it being cute and then she feels like she's trying to mimic the apron's pattern.

Chloe dumps some flour onto the counter and motions for Beca to 'have at it'. But she has no idea what to do, so she merely stares back in confusion. "What do I do with this pile?" The redhead chortles.

"You make a well in the center, and crack the eggs into it." Her brow furrows.

"I do what now?" Because making a well involved drilling, and she's not sure how making noodles involved digging into the Earth and finding water. She's also unsure about the eggs part. Chloe presses the tips of the fingers of one hand together, creating a point, and gestures the hand at the pile of flour, pointing her fingers down and rolling her wrist to make small circles.

"Dig down into the flour with your hand, like this. It makes a well in the center for your eggs to sit in." The redhead starts it, pushing down at the top of the pile and lets Beca finish until the flour is a big 'O' and she can see the counter. Then eggs are being slid over to her and she's trying to crack them without getting bits of shell into the equation. She's a little jealous when Chloe cracks an egg with one hand like the seasoned pro that she is. "'Kay, now take this fork and beat the eggs."

She makes a bit of a mess, accidentally flicking yolk out of their little flour volcano. Chloe giggles when Beca gags at the bit she's gotten in her hair and on her cheek. As she's denouncing the merits of cooking your own food, Chloe's thumb swipes the egg off of her cheek, gaze sparkling all the while. A wet towel follows, taking the last bit off and cleaning her hair as well. This close, she can see the different blues in Chloe's eyes.

"See? All clean. No need to have a meltdown." Beca's mouth moves on its own.

"I just had an **unborn** chicken on my face." Chloe's scoff scratches under her skin.

"Technically, it's not an 'unborn chicken'. These eggs aren't fertilized, so they won't ever develop." But she's not in the mood for technicalities.

"Stop being right," she grumbles to a thoroughly amused redhead.

They go back to their task, and Chloe teaches her how to mix it with the fork properly. Of course, when it comes to using her hands, she ends up feeling like she's trying to scoop the kind of cement that dries quickly.

"Oh my gosh, Beca. This is easy," she sighs pityingly, moving behind Beca and placing her own palms over the brunette's, "just work it, like this." Beca's wondering about all of the possible interpretations for that sentence, allowing Chloe to maneuver her hands with no protest. "See? Not so hard, is it?" And no, it's **not** so hard, because she's not a guy and therefore it isn't such an obvious thing, especially in her loose-fitting sweatpants. What **is** hard, is keeping her focus on actually forming the dough because Chloe's still behind her, no longer molding with the brunette but leaving her hands on the counter and she feels like Demi Moore in _Ghost_ and her Patrick Swayze is teaching her how to form dough instead of pots. When it finally begins to turn into an acceptable lump, the redhead squeezes her hip and slips away.

As the the dough ball "rests" underneath a towel, whatever that even means, she washes her hands and goes to join her companion.

Beca sits across from the redhead on the couch, turning and leaning against the arm, stretching out a bit. "Cooking is freaking exhausting, dude. Do you do this everyday?" Chloe shrugs, clicking the volume down on the music with the dock's remote.

"Not every single day. Sometimes I just don't feel like it. But cooking is relaxing to me, so I suppose that I don't mind it as much as you do." Beca nods emphatically.

"I didn't know that the noodles needed to sleep, too." At first, Chloe's got a cute little expression on her face, like she has absolutely no idea what Beca's on about. But then she lights up, tossing her head back and laughing, looking at Beca like she's-

"You're such a dork." Chloe asks if she wants wine, rolling her eyes at herself for not doing it sooner as she gets back up to fetch some. And Beca still doesn't know why the dough needs to sleep.

* * *

"Wait. So, the dough needs to 'rest'," she brings her fingers up, hooking them to make air quotations, " and the wine needs to 'breathe'? Are you sure you're not crazy?" It seems the food is more alive than she thought. Chloe pays Beca and her questions no mind, setting up the cutting board and placing a rather large knife on it. Beca steps back. "I'm just kidding." The redhead rolls her eyes.

"We've got to prep the other ingredients. Here," she places the shiitake mushrooms in front of Beca, "pull the stems out of these and slice them thinly. Beca starks to pluck the stems out, putting them in a neat little pile on their work surface.

"How thin is 'thinly'?" Chloe hums as she rubs a spoon over a piece of ginger. Which, Beca's not sure about that, but she's not the culinary graduate, so what does she know.

"I don't want to be able to see through it, but it shouldn't be more than a centimeter thick." Beca's eyebrows go up.

"That's specific. What does it matter?" Somehow, the spoon is peeling the ginger, and Beca's watching some sort of magic happen as the skin is separated from the flesh like they were never connected. Which is **freaky**.

"It affects the cooking time. Uneven pieces means different cooking times, resulting in a lack of uniformity in the dish," Chloe rattles off stoically, transferring her naked ginger to another cutting board and turning the root into tiny bits with her knife.

"Okay, Einstein. I'll try to keep them like twins," Beca retorts, smirking when Chloe laughs at her.

"Sisters is fine, Beca. We don't mind a bit of individuality. Just don't make them look like third cousins by marriage." Beca snorts, accidentally chopping a slice of mushroom the wrong way. Slyly, she breaks up the Quasimodo chunk into smaller pieces. "I saw that."

"We don't mind a bit of individuality," she repeats Chloe's words, speaking nasally in a very childish imitation. Her neighbor's doing the same tiny cutting motion with a clove of garlic, scooting all of them onto the corner of her cutting board before moving to trim the snow peas. When she's done peeling the spines off, she pushes the bowl to Beca.

"Here, slice these diagonally." Chloe goes to check on their sleeping dough ball. With a series of pokes and pats that are reminiscent of a doctor's visit, she brings it out and starts to mess with it. "Time to roll this badboy out." The redhead sets up the same machine she did the other night, and Beca watches with fascination as it turns into a long ribbon.

With some heckling, she returns to her own task. Chloe gives her snow peas a passing grade, something she's secretly pleased by, considering her relationship with actualizing an edible meal. The scallions give her a bit more trouble, though.

"Who is Julianne?" Chloe's eyes probably couldn't roll harder, and even though she's busy cutting the dough into noodles, she still finds the time to school Beca.

"Not 'Julianne', julienne." Beca doesn't think that there's really a difference between what she said and what Chloe just said. "Slice thinly on an angle." The redhead moves her hands in what Beca is assuming is the proper motion for "Julie-Anne'ing", but she's not sure how to translate the visual example into an acceptable piece of cut scallion.

"Why do these green onions have to be so prissy? Can't I just drop it in the blender?" The look that Chloe gives her is so unamused that she ends up laughing. "Okay, okay." She gives it her best try.

And they're not the prettiest, but they're kind of there. They're cut, and that's the important part, right?

"We'll make it work." Chloe runs Beca's knife over the scallions, or green onions, or spring onions, whatever they're being called today. They look a little less like wood chips when the redhead is done. "Now comes the fire part."

Beca immediately washes her hands and sits down, much to Chloe's humor.

The redhead places a large saucepan of water on the stove, clicking the heat on. When she points to some of the ingredients close to Beca, the brunette nudges them over. The chicken broth, soy sauce, oyster sauce, sesame oil, and some chile sauce go into a bowl that Beca gets tasked with mixing. She sets it to the side when Chloe shakes her head. The water comes to a boil and noodles dropped in.

"So, tell me about school," Chloe requests as she stirs the noodles to keep them from sticking.

"I go to NYU, have my bachelor's of music in theory and composition," Chloe hums as she listens to Beca speaking, "I'm pursuing my master's with a concentration in Concert Composition." Beca watches her friend turn on the faucet and run hot water before draining the noodles into a colander sitting in the sink. "Why is the faucet on?" Chloe moves her glasses to the top of her head when the steam billows around her.

"To warm the pipes up. If you pour boiling water straight down the drain without preparing them, they can crack," she says as she shakes the colander under the water to rinse the noodles before turning the faucet off and letting them drain. "Your friend said he goes to school with you." Beca bobs her head.

"Yeah, he's also getting his master's in music. His concentration is in Multimedia and Film Scoring, though. He's a big movie buff." Beca shudders. "We met on the first day of school. It was weird." She messes with a stray piece of excess vegetable matter. "He's still weird."

And she kind of wants to bring up how into Chloe Jesse seemed to be, before she remembers her phone buzzing a while ago. She digs it out to read the message.

 **Weirdo** : _Hey Becs, that girl is cute. Do you think you can talk to her for me?_ Beca rolls her eyes.

 **Becs** : _Hey, how about no because I'm not your errand runner._ She's not about to go around passing notes like they were in grade school. _Besides, I don't know if she's into guys._ Beca taps her phone on her chin. _Even if she was, she wouldn't be into you. You smell like popcorn and bad jokes._ She receives a reply almost immediately.

 **Weirdo** : _Is this your way of saying that you might be into her, Becs? Be honest. I'm here 4 u._ She's not about to admit it to him.

 **Becs** : _Maybe I'm just trying to protect other people from your particular brand of boyish "charm"._ Beca's not a prolific user of emoticons, but she finds the 'vomit face' particularly apt right now.

 **Weirdo** : _I knew you secretly liked me._

 **Becs** : _Okay, don't know why I put up with you. night._ She turns her phone facedown. Across from her, Chloe's heating up what smells like some sort of oil in a large, flat pan.

"What are you going to do with that big pan?" Chloe turns her head briefly before continuing her work.

"I'm going to cook everything in this skillet. This is where it all comes together." The way she says it, it's almost reverent.

At high heat, the smell of oil starts to seep into the air. Chloe drops the mushrooms into the skillet by the handful, and Beca watches a master at work, dancing to the sounds of sizzling vegetables and Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante.

"You said that that one composition was one of your favorites. Why?" Beca mulls over the question.

"It's an amazing piece. It's stormy and intricate, and such a departure from his previous piano concertos," she effuses, hands waving to better convey her thoughts. "It was written less than a month after the premiere of Concerto in A Major. It's like a frenetic dance, excited and moody and somehow still calm." Chloe tosses in the ginger and garlic, and Beca's mouth starts to water at the scent around them. "The emotional tension and conflict throughout the composition is exquisite."

The noodles and snow peas go next, followed by the sauce and the scallions that Chloe fixed. Beca watches Chloe working, seamlessly flowing and ebbing as she stirs and adjusts, and it reminds Beca a bit of music. Chloe moves the skillet from the heat and pours the food onto a serving dish. The redhead's finally able to move her glasses back in front of her eyes, and she does so with a smile.

"How do you manage to cook with your glasses fogging up all of the time?" Chloe slides a plate full of noodles and veggies over to her, complete with a fork.

"It's not so bad. I can see without them. I normally wear contacts during the day, anyway." Beca swallows a mouth full of saliva, because the food smelled **good**.

They sit at the couch again, accompanied by glasses of wine.

"Beaujolais." Beca nods.

"It goes well with this dish," she says to Chloe's smile.

"I wouldn't dare serve you a wine that paired poorly, Beca." Beca swallows her mouthful before huffing.

"Of course not. Because you're classy," Beca reminds her. Chloe, for her part, stays classy and looks up at the brunette through her lashes, a faint blush on her cheeks and a small smile on her lips.

They eat for a few moments without talking, instead savoring the fruits of their labor. When her phone vibrates on the coffee table, Chloe tips her head at it.

"Maybe this is being too forward, but what's your relationship with Jesse?" Beca chokes on a snow pea. After a quick confirmation that she's fine, she responds.

"He's a good friend, but that's all," and Beca decides to just go for it, "I think he's into you, though." She sips her wine. The redhead nods.

"I had a feeling." Beca's waiting for the rest of a sentence that doesn't seem to be coming.

"And...?" She watches Chloe twist a noodle around on her fork and eat it daintily.

"'And' what?" The brunette stabs at a piece of mushroom that's folded over.

"How do you feel about it?" Chloe shrugs, picking up her wineglass.

"Not much, to be honest. I don't really know him." Beca tries not to smile, but her lips are curving against her will and they're making eye contact over the edge of Chloe's glass and before they know it they both start giggling.

"Is there anyone you **do** know?" Chloe winks, setting her wine down and resting her chin on her fist.

"Maybe." And it's like there are butterflies marching around inside of her, with how that one word makes her feel.

* * *

"So, this wine," Beca starts as Chloe hands her a filled glass, "time for my next lesson on being cultured." The redhead nods, settling the jug comfortably on the coffee table and leaning into the back of the couch. She's still in her jeans from earlier, and the light blue of Chloe's blouse doesn't really match her eyes but it's as close as it can get. Her chef's coat is folded over one of the chairs by the peninsula. Chloe hums and looks at her wine.

"This is a Beaujolais," and Beca wants to stupidly say "bless you", "from the Chiroubles appellation-" Beca interrupts her.

"Appalachian? Like the mountain range?" Chloe chuckles.

"No, 'appellation' is the official title given to a product made in a specific place. In this case, it means that tonight's wine came from the Chiroubles area of the Beaujolais region of France." Chloe swirls the wine. "Most of the wine in that area is the kind that we're drinking now. A small percentage is Chardonnay and Pinot."

"Does the area make a difference?" The redhead hums.

"Mhmm. The elevation, the soil, the temperature, everything makes a difference, including the barrel it's aged in, and the way the grapes are processed." Beca's eyebrows go up as she considers the red liquid in front of her.

"Is wine made with special grapes?"

"Different varieties for different tastes. Beaujolais is made with Gamay grapes. This wine uses a variation of the maceration carbonique method and because of that, it extracts the maximum color and aroma without the astringency that's associated with red wine." Chloe taps her glass against her cheek. "Chiroubles Beaujolais has a lacy texture and suppleness that sets it apart from the rest." Beca nods as she rolls the fruity wine over her tongue.

"It's really good, actually. Smooth." She cradles the glass in her hands, letting the stem sit between her fingers.

"Can you taste the cranberry notes in it?" And as Beca takes another sip, she can't help but notice that Chloe's eyes seem to shine a bit brighter. Her brow wrinkles.

"No, um, I can't, actually." Because it's fruity, but it's less cranberry and more some other ambiguous berry, in her opinion. She's mulling over her thoughts when Chloe gently removes the glass from her hand.

"Try again." She's not sure how she's supposed to sample the wine when it's no longer within her reach, but then Chloe's there, lips just a breadth away, giving Beca a chance to escape. "If you'd like to, that is."

It's pretty chaste, closed lips pressing together and Chloe's hand grasping her upper arm, fingers just barely closed around Beca's bicep.

She pushes forward a bit, meeting Chloe in the middle so the redhead doesn't have to lean as much, and as they part, Beca can't help but think that it's nice. She licks her lips, watching with a hazy sort of focus as Chloe does the same.

And yeah, she can definitely taste the cranberry notes.

They're sweet.

* * *

 **AN: Hope you guys liked it! It's a reprieve from writing PTD. Which, I like, but I have to be in a certain headspace, so this light stuff is cool. Thoughts?**


	3. Burgers & Belgian Ale

**AN: Sorry about the delay, folks. Went through the whole, "my writing is crap, trash trash blah" thing that everyone who makes anything goes through. After the heavy indecision about whether I should even continue writing, my daughter poured water into the unused disc drive. I get that I wasn't using it, but lol. Anyway, I'm back with a brand new track.**

 **I'm happy that anyone enjoys reading. Rootbeer, I'm sorry about your lasagne. Maybe try lo mein? Or burgers ;]  
**

* * *

"And this knocker right here, is the best of the bunch."

Chloe stands to the side, watching as Amy leads the wine tasting with a charismatic force, describing subtle flavors with terms like "'roo mutton" and "mermaid's tits". She really has no idea what the blonde's thoughts truly are, whether the descriptions are positive or if she hated the pinot gris. Either way, the patrons are captivated by the show. Chloe taps the tips of her fingers of one hand against her lips, finding herself drifting for what feels like the hundredth time that day. Her phone buzzes quietly in the pocket of her slacks and her first reaction is to grab it, but she sternly reminds herself that she's working.

Well, somewhat.

Amy swings the bottle around by the neck, cheering like a pirate with her mental faculties at half-mast (or full-mast in a hurricane) as she touts the benefits of wine before noon. Her candid recounting of the cabana boys in Costa Rica flies well with the crowd of mostly women, and the majority of them move forward to purchase the wine. Chloe nods her head along to some of the ladies chatting at her about their own scandalous stories and thoughts about the wine, laughing and gasping appropriately at the lascivious bits that have the others blushing, but her mind veers off just the slightest, replaying the dinner with her neighbor a few nights ago.

How she had felt elated and helpless at the expression on Beca's face when she'd flicked yolk onto herself and the unneeded amount of attention she'd given to wiping it off of the brunette's face and hair. Beca smelled like gardenias and a hint of something spicy, something woodsy, like sandalwood. She remembers breathing in just a little more deeply when she'd attempted to help Beca mix the dough.

Which, if she's being honest with herself, was completely unnecessary and she didn't really do a good job. She was so caught up with the way Beca's floral shampoo mixed with her perfume and the feeling of her own arms around the smaller woman that she'd sort of moved Beca's hands and the dough like rakes through mud. Someone to her left hands her a generous amount of money, winking when her husband picks up a crate. The flaxen-haired woman grins and pats Chloe on the shoulder gently before turning to direct her partner. Amy comes over as the crowd dissipates, counting bills like a mob boss.

"So. What's on your mind?" Chloe has an evasive reply ready, but Amy beats her to the punch. "And I know it's something sexy. Your face is all," and the blonde scrunches her own up in what Chloe's guessing is meant to be indicative of arousal, but the way she's smiling makes it come across with some constipated undertones. She laughs at Amy.

"I'm **what**?" She gestures at the blonde's face, " **that** looks more like I need to use the toilet, Ames." Amy shrugs.

"I get numbers on the daily, so..." Amy pops her lips, fanning herself with the wad of cash. Chloe hands her the pile she'd collected, cheeks pulling up at the cavalier reminder of how in-demand the blonde is. "Is this about that slice you've been stalking?" Chloe's mouth drops open.

"I am **not** -"

"Because I saw you hovering outside of what I'm assuming is her door," Amy points the stack of bills at her, now secured with a thick rubber band, "and that's for **your** benefit, because if you just hang outside of random people's doors..." The blonde shakes her head in mock disappointment. Chloe rolls her eyes.

"I just didn't know if she was home." Amy nods and walks away to put the money into a deposit bag.

"Right, and you didn't," she swivels her head to cock a brow, "knock or anything? Like normal people?" Chloe's leg trembles with the urge to stomp in outrage. "Mmm, but I forget, gingers don't count."

"You're ridiculous," she counters.

"Says the stalker."

* * *

"Amy! No! I will not!"

Amy's following her down the hallway of her apartment building, gesticulating with her arms waving wildly as if she's signaling traffic sans flags.

"Then I **can't** be sure that you're not a stalker! How do I know that this neighbor lady knows you? How do I know that this 'Beca'," Amy makes air quotes, twisting her face into a grimace like she thinks it's a bad choice of name for a fake person, "even exists?!" Chloe stabs her key into the metal plate surrounding the door knob at the loud mention of her neighbor's name before turning around to bark a harsh reprimand.

" **Amy**!", she whispers roughly, biting her teeth together in a pained smile when one of the other tenants walks by. " **Shut** your **mouth** before someone gets the wrong idea!" She finally gets her door open and pulls the blonde in with her. She didn't have any plans to hang out with Amy, but this accusational conversation had continued all the way to her place. Chloe stops short after closing the door, realizing forty minutes late that the blonde wasn't even supposed to get in the car with her. "You are going to get me in trouble."

"What's life without a little spice, yeah?" Amy's already digging through her refrigerator. "So, like, this chick," she waves around a wedge of cheddar, "when do I get to meet her?" She watches Amy casually root around in her kitchen, slicing the aged yellow cheddar with the completely wrong knife and eating as she goes. Amy looks up from her work. "I," she walks back around the peninsula, seating herself next to Chloe, "want to," pushes a slice into the redhead's limp hand, "meet," stuffs another piece into her mouth even though she's still chewing one, "this Beca." Chloe looks up from where the bit of cheese in her hand is starting to sweat as it warms up. "Or **does** she not exist?" They stare at each other, one in bewilderment and one in challenge.

She knows that Amy knows that Beca is real, but Amy's playing her because she's nosy. She could say no and let Amy harass her for possibly the rest of her life, or she could get it over with. And truthfully, Chloe's not sure which she'd prefer. Her mouth works for a minute before she drops the cheese onto her counter.

"You... are a troglodyte." To which Amy bows her head in acceptance of the label. Chloe wipes her hands on a folded kitchen towel sitting next to her, standing up and passing it to Amy. "Let's go see if she's home." The blonde's eyes spark with excitement.

Chloe prays the entire way over, hoping desperately that the brunette's apartment is empty. Maybe there will be a forced evacuation of some sort. Or a roaming band of ninjas. Anything would do, really. She's aware that beggars can't be choosers and she's willing to take whatever she can get. Amy swings her arms back and forth, punching the side of her fist into her open palm as she waits next to the redhead. With a fortifying breath, she knocks.

She counts to thirty in her head - so what if she skips a few numbers and bypasses the 'one one-thousand' method, sometimes rules are meant to be broken - before backing away and trying to drag Amy from the front of Beca's door. The blonde hardly budges but wheezes at Chloe as she tries to avoid the redhead's harassment. In the middle of their quiet squabbling, Chloe's heart drops into the pit of her stomach at the sound of a lock turning. The door cracks open with more noise than Chloe thinks it really makes, but she's panicking a little, feeling guilty for absolutely no reason except that she's about to expose the person on the other side to Amy. The blonde shoves her hand away and whirls back, and as Chloe turns as well, she catches Amy's manic grin in her periphery.

"Hi! Are you **Beca**?!" The woman in question jumps a little, surprised at Amy's energy level. The blonde's voice sounds like several cars being compacted in a thriving wrecking yard, multiplied by chainsaws and a deranged clown. In fact, it even scares Chloe somewhat. Beca nods like she's unsure of her own name before clearing her throat and straightening up.

"Yeah. That's me." Beca notices Chloe over the blonde's shoulder, and Chloe smiles brightly at the way the brunette's eyes soften and her posture relaxes. "Oh. Hey, Chloe. What's up?" Chloe startles when Amy shoves her, not realizing she'd started to drift off.

"Hey!" Chloe clears her throat when she squeaks a bit. "I just came by to say hi and see what you were doing-" Amy shoves her again, interrupting her sentence by pushing her forward and into Beca. The brunette catches her just before they collide. "Amy!"

"I just wanted to know if you were a real person, yeah?" Beca frowns at Amy's words, hands still closed around the redhead's shoulders. Chloe's own hands rest lightly on Beca's waist, not having had enough time to move her hands elsewhere. Beca doesn't seem to notice.

"Uh. I'm- I mean- what?" Beca shakes her head. "Of course I am. What? Why?" Amy's mouth couldn't be any bigger if she tried.

"Because this redhead has the hots for you and she's been fantas-" Chloe twists in Beca's grasp, lunging and slapping her hand over Amy's face, narrowly avoiding touching the blonde's eyeball with the pad of her middle finger. Amy moves back a second late with a grand flailing.

"Tha-ha-hat's enough, Amy!" She's not been shy about liking Beca, but who only knew what kind of thing Amy would say. Beca, unlike her, seemed to be a bit more reserved with her emotions. "You're going to scare people with your personality." Amy hums with glee.

"I don't think it's my personality, Babe." She winks at Chloe, rubbing along her curves before pointing over the redhead's shoulder at Beca. The brunette flinches. "I think it's time I left you with this apparently real person, though."

And just like that, they're alone. When Beca shuffles her feet, Chloe turns her head at the sound and starts at their proximity. The brunette doesn't move at first, staring at the spot where Amy was.

"But why wouldn't I be real?" Chloe chuckles. That prompts Beca to look at the redhead, and her eyes immediately drop to Chloe's lips before flicking back up quickly. "What?" When the brunette quirks a brow and leans against her doorframe, Chloe shadows the movement and slides next to her. Her heart flutters a little when Beca shifts so that their shoulders touch.

"Amy's just a freak. She loves chaos." Granted, it isn't to the same extent that the security guard downstairs, Lilly, does, but that's neither here nor there. "I think she just wanted you to not be real so that she could call me crazy." Beca hums with amusement.

"I'm not sure that she doesn't already call you that," Beca murmurs, pressing into Chloe in a good-natured shoulder shove. "If the shoe fits, and all that." Chloe feigns offense, mouth dropping open before pouting. She catches the brunette's eyes dipping a second time. A loud slam from her apartment shakes them out of the moment like a physical push and they both turn to look. Amy limps out with her bag clutched in her fist, strap trailing along the floor.

"I'm okay!" Her tone is strained and her hair's straying on the wild side. Amy drags her feet as she makes her way over, huffing and puffing. She looks up at the two women and her expression slides into a smirk that makes Beca tense up noticeably. "Though you two look like you might need to lie down, hmm? Preferably together? Clothing optional?"

Chloe snorts and rolls her eyes at first, but a glow at the edge of her vision turns her head in that direction. The new light source turns out to be Beca's face, which has become a delightful shade of pink from the neck up. It's especially pleasing over her cheeks and Chloe forgets herself in her observation. The brunette crosses her arms in readily apparent discomfort and it pushes her cleavage up. Really, Chloe will always admit to being only human - though she's joked plenty, she's never seriously claimed otherwise - so it's no fault of hers when her gaze immediately snaps down to where the top two buttons of the teal crepe blouse have been left undone. It's nice, she thinks. Quite nice. But Beca chokes very obviously, sounding like she's trying to breathe, swallow, and speak at the same time. Her pretty blue eyes fly wildly in every direction but the redhead's, and that kind of reminds Chloe that Amy's still there. She sighs and turns back to the blonde.

"Aaannd thank you for stopping by, Amy. Bye now." She waves her hand into Amy's line of sight, shifting to put herself between her neighbor and her rabid friend.

"I'm not staying, it's getting too gay in here for me." Chloe sees Amy preparing to elaborate unnecessarily and snaps her fingers pointedly. The blonde chortles boisterously at the redirection. "Oi, calm your tits, yeah. I'm going. I'm guessing that you're going to be com-" Beca interrupts.

"Jesus! Are you always like this?", she snaps at the blonde. Amy grins.

"That I am. It drives the boys nuts. Makes 'em want to nu-" Beca growls and buries her blushing face in her hands. Chloe's so close to cooing that she feels it trying to leak out, burning her throat and lungs with the force with which she's bottling it up. She settles for pursing her lips instead. Amy guffaws a few more times before deciding she's ready to finally leave, winking exaggeratedly at the pair. Beca grumbles into her palm, but still says her goodbyes. When the blonde is out of sight, singing as the elevator doors close, Chloe turns her attention back.

"Sorry about that. I know that Amy is... a bit... much." One of Beca's dark blue eyes peeks out from between her fingers.

"'Much' wouldn't even begin to cover it, dude." The brunette drags her hands over her face as they fall away. Chloe rolls her lips against the smile because Beca still sounds so embarrassed and uncomfortable and as much as Chloe wanted to avoid putting her through the experience, she absolutely can't deny how cute it is. But Beca's sharp eyes catch the restrained emotion and she grumbles again. "Glad to know you're enjoying my suffering." Chloe winks.

"I'd like to enjoy you in other ways, too." Beca blushes more but rolls her eyes this time, much more relaxed now that it's just them. And she'd still like to make Beca uncomfortable. Just as long as it's her making the brunette flustered. "You okay?" Beca shrugs.

"That was definitely an experience that I could have lived without, but I'm okay. All scars fade with time," she adds dramatically. A spurt of laughter escapes Chloe's lungs at the delightfully feminine way that Beca presses her hand to her chest, like she's about to utter "oh my!" with a Southern belle accent. An unbidden scene of Beca as a cowgirl wrangling horses and lassoing cattle flies through her mind before quickly latching onto the word 'cowgirl' and taking a hard right turn into a slew of imagery that has her blinking widely and slowly to try and clear it.

"So," she starts breathily, ignoring the way that Beca cocks her head in question to the tone, "whatcha up to?" She smiles widely and laces her fingers behind her back.

"Just got back from class half an hour ago?" Beca raises her wrist to check her watch, rotating to the soft underside of her arm. Chloe knows how soft it is because she remembers brushing her fingertips against it briefly. _**Which isn't creepy**_ , she heartily chants in her head. _**Not stalkerish.**_ "Yeah. I'm just hanging out. Jesse was supposed to stop by but he said something about..." The brunette's forehead wrinkles in confusion before she waves her hand carelessly. "A professor, or a movie. Or a movie about a professor. Possibly food?" Chloe laughs.

"Or maybe the library? Or, I know," she winks at Beca's deadpan stare, "maybe he's going to join a group of magicians."

"His best friend is actually a magician." Chloe giggles, pleased at the information.

"I love magic." She claps her hands together excitedly. Beca smiles at her, and there's something about the quality of her eyes that makes Chloe bite her lip. Of course, that prompts the eyes that she's admiring to catch her lip as well.

Chloe's standing perfectly straight - she knows that because she's actively paying attention to her posture at the moment to avoid impulsive movements - so them drawing closer is all Beca. The brunette's watching her mouth kind of intently and she's starting to reach out with her left hand. When it actually makes contact with the skin of Chloe's arm, Beca does her best impression of a cat tossed in water and rights herself with admirable speed.

"Uh so - uh - yeah. Magic's swell. I love it also." Beca cringes, quietly mocking herself before rolling her eyes. "Let's pretend I didn't say that garbage just now." Chloe giggles, because Beca is just **too** much cuteness in such a small body.

"You love it also?" She's repeating for posterity. Cementing the memories. For posterity. Or self-indulgence. Beca sighs like this is a painful interaction for her before clearing her throat and flipping her straight hair back over her shoulder. It's not creepy that Chloe likes the way it flows. She likes other things that flow, too. Like water, and curtains.

"Verily so." Beca is still speaking with that sarcastic bite, but Chloe bursts out in laughter that only increases when she catches the tiny pleased grin trying not to garner any attention. Eventually the mirth peters off, leaving Chloe with a flush that she can feel on her cheeks and a silent neighbor with a soft smile and observant eyes. And maybe it's the high she gets from laughing and smiling, but Beca's midnight blue eyes seem to have stars in them.

"You're silly." Chloe pokes the tip of Beca's nose, chortling when the brunette jerks back and reprimands her. She watches with open amusement as Beca rubs over her face. "And cute as heck." Beca's cheeks pink and she tries to wipe it away with the knuckles of her left hand.

" **You're** crazy." Beca smirks at the redhead's glare before turning around to go into her own apartment. "Wanna hang for a bit, Chlo?" And she's not facing her, so she misses what Chloe believes to be a very obvious reaction. Beca definitely doesn't miss the surprised exhale, though, and she looks back over her shoulder. "What?" Chloe shakes her head.

"Just the first time you've called me that, is all." As Beca continues walking, she mumbles something about them still barely knowing each other so using nicknames earlier would be strange, which is a fair assessment to make. It's a perfect opening for a flirty comment about becoming better acquainted, but Chloe lets it go on the grounds that Beca wears jeans very well and she doesn't want to say anything that will make the brunette turn around. She follows Beca in before remembering that her apartment is still unlocked. "Oh shoot. I need to go lock my door. Be right back." When she returns, Beca's on her own couch with two chilly tulip glasses next to a tall, dark bottle. She starts to sit down properly, but she's been itching to get closer to Beca.

And she **did** say that she's only human.

Chloe drops her body over the entire couch, letting out a light "oof" when Beca scrunches up and accidentally knees her in the stomach. Instead of retreating, she decides to just force the brunette to relax so that she can flip over. Beca's haughty eyebrow arch really makes her excited and that encourages her to get comfortable.

"What's going on here?" Though her tone is slightly anxious, Beca's hand is at the edge of her hip, fingers just barely touching. The other hand hangs on the back of the couch, and something about the way she's tapping out an unheard beat makes Chloe want to grab it and drape it across her shoulders.

"I'm just getting comfy, Beca." The brunette snorts and rolls her eyes. Chloe tries not to jump when the fingers at her hip skim over her slacks with more heart.

"I see that." But she doesn't ask for more clarification, so Chloe doesn't provide it. Instead, Beca nods and gestures with her hand that's on the back of the couch. "Want something to drink?" Chloe angles her head to the live edge coffee table. The tulip glasses are sitting on silver coasters, the bottle on a dark blue towel. Underneath, Chloe spots the crazy font that's also on Beca's eccentric guacamole bag.

"You really like guacamole?" Beca laughs lightly and leans forward to grab the bottle. Chloe's really not sure if Beca's forgotten that she's still lying there, between the brunette's thighs and her chest that's **getting closer** , but it's a beautiful situation and Chloe likes to appreciate all of the opportunities that life provides. Beca's hand slides from one side of her hip to the other, presumably to hold onto the redhead's body and prevent her from falling, so Chloe just tries to manage her smile enough that it won't freak Beca out when she can see her face again. She curls her own hands around the bicep of the arm that's holding her, chuckling quietly and pressing her fingertips down when she feels Beca's arm tense. The sound of liquid hitting glass tells her that Beca's trying to focus on something, so she doesn't tease further. Even though she can **feel** Beca's chest - that's **totes fantastic** , if anyone asks - pressing against her. Beca's hair slips down as she replaces the bottle on the table and falls into Chloe's face, tickling her cheek and nose. She giggles as she tries to blow it away, twisting her head from side to side as it returns. "What's taking you so long?" When no answer arises, she glances over to notice Beca staring at her. "What? Do I have something on my face?" Chloe closes one eye when brown tresses get a little too close.

"Do you like beer?" Her question doesn't match her energy, and the soft way that Beca asks makes Chloe think that the brunette's thoughts are also incongruent. But she shrugs instead, sitting up as Beca begins to hand her one of the chilled glasses.

"It's okay. I don't hate it, but you already know that wine's my thing." Beca's hand brushes up her back as she goes, and Chloe grips her beer a little harder. She settles against the back of the couch next to her companion, smiling calmly even though a rush of butterflies sweeps through her.

Beca's cocky little smirk is so freaking cute that Chloe almost can't handle how it makes her feel. It's a bundle of temptation, wrapped up with a bow of sarcasm and occasionally awkward mannerisms. She watches the brunette lean farther back and bring the glass up so that it catches the late afternoon sunlight. The golden liquid swishes gently, and it's the perfect complement to Beca's words.

"This is definitely **my** thing." Chloe's eyes flit from the slow rocking to catch Beca's eyes watching her instead of the glass in her hand. Beca's talking about the beer, Chloe's ninety percent sure, but the brunette's looking at her. And that makes her feel a lot of things. Instead of sorting through and identifying them all, she just admires the way the glint of the glass reflects in dark blue eyes.

"So, tell me about it."

* * *

Has she already mentioned how cute Beca is? Because Beca's cute. Downright adorable.

Chloe's nodding along, being educated about beer and she wonders briefly if this is how Beca feels every time Chloe talks about wine. Beca gestures to the bottle, exclaiming with no small amount of excitement that it's "the first beer of its kind!" and practically squealing about the Brooklyn Brewery and how amazing they are. She's using a plethora of beer lingo, and Chloe thinks it's fun trying to draw parallels between her area of expertise and Beca's.

"-so they take the lees that are used to make cider, and they add them to these barrels. How cool is that?" Chloe smiles genuinely. Beca leans forward and clinks their glasses. "Can you taste that cider note in it? That tartness comes from the ghosts of apples passed." Chloe doesn't exactly spit her beer back, but she does sputter a little.

"'The ghosts of apples passed'? That's adorable, Beca." She wordlessly teases Beca randomly throughout her detailed breakdown of the brewing process, dutifully recounting it all when Beca frowns and asks if she's even listening. "Of course I'm listening. But you're just..." She trails off and blows out a breath, pretending to be shaken as she quietly whispers, "too cute". Beca stares at the ceiling for a second before finishing her third glass in silence. Chloe takes the cue and does the same. The brunette deposits her empty tulip glass on the table.

"I'm hungry, and if we keep drinking, I won't be able to food." Beca stares hard at her for a second before amending with, "making or eating." Chloe smiles and laughs.

"Yeah, I didn't expect this to be as strong as it is." Beca proudly proclaims the alcohol percentage before standing up. As Chloe follows, she finds herself perhaps a bit more intoxicated than she intended to get.

They pack up and move to Chloe's, Beca bringing along the bottle because "it'd be weird to switch to wine after this much beer". Chloe goes through her usual routine of removing her jewelry and changing, making easy conversation with her neighbor. Once she crosses the threshold of her room, she notices Beca's step falter. Chloe waves her in, continuing to her walk-in.

"I actually shouldn't make anything complicated, so, how does burgers sound?" Beca's reply is muffled, and Chloe pokes her head out to see the brunette lying on her bed, feet still planted on the floor. Her hands are resting on her stomach and she's staring at the lighthouse panting on the opposite wall. "Beca?"

"What's up?" Beca casually rolls her head back. She looks so comfortable that Chloe wants to go lie down as well, even though she's in the middle of changing. She resumes unbuttoning her top, forcing herself to remain calm when Beca immediately glances down.

"I didn't hear your reply." Eyes come back up quickly.

"I said 'that sounds good'." At this point, she's run out of buttons and is playing with the bottom edge of her shirt.

"Okay." Something tells her that this moment probably wouldn't be happening if they both weren't already on the looser end of loose. But Chloe's having fun and Beca doesn't seem uncomfortable, so **that** tells her that it's fine. She shrugs her shoulder, moving to grip higher up on one side of her shirt and pull it the rest of the way off before doing the same with the other half. When she retreats farther into her closet, she notes that Beca had been watching the whole time.

And that makes her feel **really** excited.

But they haven't eaten yet (she ignores the loud shouting of dirty thoughts), so she quickly changes into a pair of peacock print harem pants and black tank top. She finds herself halting just inside her closet, nervous to exit. She's confident about her body, she's happy about the way that she looks, but there's still a part of her that wants Beca's approval. Her neighbor grumbles, and the slightly petulant tone of it relaxes her.

"You know, I didn't think about it, but you should have gotten changed, too." Beca frowns.

"I don't want to go back. I'm hungry **now** ," she whines out. Chloe can see the puppy dog eyes Beca's trying to use against her - which are completely working - and she sighs around her smile. Chloe reaches behind her, pulling a random pair of sweat pants off the shelf they're folded on and tosses it at Beca. An ICE shirt from her culinary school days quickly follows, flipping open and blanketing itself over Beca's shoulder. The brunette holds the items up. "What's this?" Chloe rolls her eyes.

"Clothing, Beca." Beca's brow immediately drops.

"I know **that**. I just meant, like, you don't have to. I'm okay." Chloe walks to her bedroom door.

"As great as you look in those jeans, sweats are more comfortable," she's too far down the hall to hear Beca's mildly panicked reply, and that kind of fills her with something light and bright. Something like dandelion tufts and sunshine. "It's fine, Beca. Just wear it."

When Beca doesn't come right out of the bedroom, Chloe assumes that the brunette has accepted the offer. Instead of fantasizing about it - because she's going to get to see the real thing anyway - she decides to use her time to pull ingredients from the fridge. It's as she's about to put the ground beef on the counter that it hits her that she'd only been considering the end result of changing, not the journey. And what was it that someone said about it?

That the journey **is** the destination?

Even though it's a thrilling thought, she quickly pushes it from her mind. Because she isn't a creep. **Even** if it would be great. **Even** if Beca would probably get over any initial outrage and take advantage of the courage that Chloe knows alcohol has given them both. But Chloe respects people; she respects boundaries and bodies and obtaining consent before pouncing. So, until she gets that green light, she's going to cry.

Cutting onions, that is.

Chloe quickly peels her yellow onion, reminding it telepathically that this is all just business and that there are no hard feelings on her end. It shines back at her menacingly, and she retaliates by popping some gum in her mouth. The onions meet their fate with only a small amount of tears, which she thinks of as conciliatory mourning, being sliced into thin semi-circles. The knife hits the board with quiet _thunk_ after _thunk_ , breaking up what would otherwise be silence. They go into their covered bowl coffin and pushed to the side. A medium-sized skillet is fished out and placed on the stove to heat. As Chloe wipes the board off, she notices the wedge of cheddar that Amy had so kindly just left out. A short draft of rage blows by, tinting everything in a shade of red that makes her think of a few jokes about gingers and tempers. She considers tossing it into the ground beef, but then thinks about the apples Ms. Daisy on the second floor brought by. Chloe contemplates them for a minute as they sit in the wicker bowl on the counter. With a shrug and an "eh, why not", she plucks one from the pile and begins to peel. A small smile slips over her lips as she thinks about how many fits her instructors would have, watching her peel an apple with such a large knife. Chloe's swinging her apple peel string around on her way to the compost by the time that Beca finally emerges. She hadn't forgotten about the brunette, but she's **surprised** by how surprised she is to see Beca.

Who knew that Chloe would end up liking somewhat nondescript dark blue sweat pants so much? And it really doesn't help that Beca is nervously pacing in place, acting like a child with too much energy and no outlet. All that fizz is just bubbling underneath a poorly closed cap, and Chloe wants a taste.

The apple peel is flung erratically in the direction of the trashcan, something she pays no attention to even when Beca's eyebrow shoots up. Her feet carry her towards the brunette with no instruction on her part, and before she knows it, she's right in front of the woman.

"Hi," she blurts, hands shooting out to grasp Beca's forearms. Chloe's perfectly aware of how breathless she sounds and how she's bouncing on the balls of her feet. There's just something about the way that Beca looks in her clothes that makes Chloe feel all tingly. It makes her heart dance and it's common sense that movement within would be reflect without. So she bounces and bounces and bounces until her face is two inches from Beca's and the brunette closes the distance that she's purposely left.

There are plenty of nice things in the world. Sunshine is pretty high up on the list, because it's the basis for pretty much everything else to exist. Sunshine makes blue skies blue. It makes trees and flowers grow. Water sparkles in the sun. So all of those nice things have another nice thing to thank. People are nice, too. Certain people are nicer, like her parents and friends. Aubrey even though she's self-admittedly anal-retentive. Ms. Daisy and her nearly-compulsive desire to bring Chloe all manner of fresh produce even though they both tend to the community garden. Dancing is nice. Chloe likes to move. She's a physical person and it grounds her. And of course you can't have dancing without music. Which is also a nice, beautiful thing.

Chloe likes animals as well. The fluffy ones, the scaly ones, the ones with stuff in between that she isn't sure how to categorize. Some of them freak her out, but she's sure somebody else thinks that they're lovely. But that all brings her to her current situation, because Beca strikes her a little bit as an animal personified. Something really fluffy and cute, but also nervous and awkward, like a small dog or a cat. She likes Beca, thinks she's nice. Her lips are nice.

They're **very** nice.

And Beca isn't being nervous or awkward right now.

Beca angles her head, kissing with more pressure and opening her mouth just enough to capture Chloe's bottom lip between hers. In the redhead's surprise, Beca moves closer, fingers testing themselves against Chloe's waist. They're not very far into the kiss, but Chloe already feels herself starting to slip down that slope of passion that ends up with people against walls or on tables or horizontal. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't **so** ready. Because Beca's hot. She's-

"-on fire." Chloe nods against Beca's lips, skimming her hand up to the brunette's neck to bring her back in. But she resists and pulls away completely, confusing Chloe with her expression. "Chloe."

"Hmm?" She wonders how someone's eyes can be simultaneously dark and bright.

"I think something's on fire."

Chloe whirls around, shutting the stove off and transferring the skillet to a different spot. Those onions are still sitting in their bowl, definitely not caramelized, building up their sulfuric powers under that plate. With a quick laugh, she grabs the olive oil and lightly coats the bottom of the pan. As it starts to heat up, she slides it back to the warm burner, clicking it on to medium-low heat. The onions let out an unseen cloud as they're dumped, but it dissipates in the kitchen air and is quickly replaced with the scent of browning onions. While they cook, Chloe wipes her hands on a hand towel and turns back around.

"Oops," she chuckles. "That definitely wasn't supposed to happen." Beca crosses her arms and cocks her hip.

"Did I just witness the great culinary master flub at cooking?" The brunette sits herself down at the peninsula, cradling her chin in her hands and oozing a joking condescension that makes Chloe laugh.

"Asks the same woman that nearly burned her apartment down on the first day we met." Chloe pushes a second cutting board toward her along with a tomato and a knife. "Here, Kitchen Destroyer, slice these." When Beca opens her mouth like she's going to spit out a smart reply, Chloe challenges her with a, " **if** you can manage that without setting it on fire, that is."

And that makes the meal prep on the quieter side. Not out of tension, but Beca's competitive focus is on full display and the way Chloe can spot her mentally calculating the width of each slice so fastidiously fills her with glee. As Beca commits to her task with all of her attention, Chloe sets up her cutting board with a cheese grater and begins to grate the apple. She's about halfway through when Beca finishes her task, all but 'mic-dropping' the knife and striking a pose.

"I'm done." Beca sounds so cocky that Chloe almost wants to nitpick the fruit slices, but post-traumatic stress rises up and the phantom voices of the various instructors over the years has her stopping her tease before it starts. There is no need to put anyone else through that.

Instead, she smiles at Beca, winking and handing her a head of lettuce to separate and rinse. It's easy enough and Beca does it with no more than a tiny grin and a wink. The brunette makes a dirty joke about tossing salad that almost has Chloe grating her own fingers off, but Beca's embarrassment and mumbling about alcohol make her giggle enough to recover quietly.

She has Beca slice the cheddar after. It's a task that gives her a bit of trouble, but she manages it with some elbow grease and hushed swearing. The apple turns into a shredded pile that's tossed into a bowl right after Chloe puts the package of ground beef in. When she asks Beca what seasonings she likes in her hamburger, she nearly tosses the entire bowl.

" **What**?" Beca shrugs and rolls her eyes.

"It's not that big of a deal, Chloe." But it is.

"How can you only like salt and pepper?" Her voice is a tad shrill, but she feels like only using salt and pepper is for purists who only want to "savor the true essence" of something. She also maybe kind of thinks that only using salt and pepper is like reading the newspaper versus watching a movie. Or eating a bowl of milk without cereal. With some of that disbelief fueling her movements, she holds up the rosemary. "What about this?" Beca shrugs again and Chloe wants to sprinkle the rosemary on **her**.

"I mean, sure. I don't really know what these things do or how they change the flavor." Beca shrinks a little, grabbing her elbows and looking to the side. "I didn't, like, **eat** very well before you." Beca huffs out a small laugh, "I still don't." And all of that makes Chloe's heart ache. Even though her hands still have small bits of shredded apple on them, she closes the distance between her and Beca and wraps the smaller woman up in a hug, tightening her hold when the brunette resists.

"Oh Beca, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I was just," she shakes her head against Beca's, "being stupid. I'm sorry." Chloe turns them around so that she can pick up the rosemary again. "Would you like to learn about them? I can show you how to cook with all of these things." She really still is in the middle of apologizing, but Beca's eyes are such a deep blue that, in trying to see the bottom, she gets pulled in again.

This kiss is like cold wax at first, stiff and unyielding, before melting under the heat of Chloe's apology and what she thinks is Beca's natural fire. She's trying to break away when Beca's arms unwind and her left hand fists at Chloe's ribs.

Beca prevents her from drawing back and takes control of the kiss, turning and pushing her into the counter before swiping her tongue along Chloe's lips. It's in the space of the redhead's gasp that Beca's tongue meets hers, sliding over, and the way that Beca moans at the feeling drives Chloe a bit wild. They wrestle against each other and Chloe's hands yank at the bottom of Beca's shirt, itching to sink under and feel skin. But they part as quickly as they met, and Beca's spinning her around before she's finished stabilizing her heart.

"Those onions are going to burn."

Chloe stirs them on auto-pilot, rubbing her lips together and running her tongue over them. She mixes the seasonings into the apple and ground beef, describing the profile of each herb and how it enhances food, tasting Beca on her tongue the whole time. The brunette nods attentively, chewing her lip all the while. It's only after she's formed the patties and is ready to put them in a new skillet that she salts them, though.

"Why do you do that?" The question is punctuated by the sizzle of the first patty.

"So that it doesn't change the composition of the proteins." _Sssst_. Second patty. "It draws moisture out of the meat, and it'll make them more like hockey pucks." Sizzle. Beca murmurs a joke about loving hockey, smirking when Chloe snorts right away. "Bet you wouldn't want to eat a hockey puck, though. Big difference between playing and eating." _Sssst_.

There's a solid minute or two where they kind of just stare at each other, silently acknowledging the innuendo. It's only when it's time to flip the patties that Chloe looks down. The onions are pulled from the heat, looking perfectly caramelized despite the two attempts to fail. Chloe piles the patties onto a plate and shuts off all of the burners, shifting the second skillet to a cool part of the stove as well. She glances up to see Beca in the same spot she left her, hands trapped between her body and the counter and something stormy in her eyes. Chloe wipes her hands on a towel before gesturing at her face.

"I'm going to pop these eyes out for a different set and be right back, but feel free to make yourself a burger in the interim." Beca chuckles but nods.

"I'll probably just pour us another glass and wait." Chloe points her in the direction of buns and condiments before making her trip to the bathroom for her glasses. When she gets back, Beca's got everything set up, angling the sauces so that they sit next to each other in the most aesthetically pleasing manner she deems possible. And it's cute, Beca's nerves displaying themselves in an artistic compulsion. As she approaches, Beca poses a question.

"So, did you bake this bread yourself?" The brunette nudges the chipotle aioli enough that it sits parallel to the plain mayonnaise before turning her full attention to Chloe.

"No, but that would be really cool. I got these buns from a girl in the next apartment complex over. She's a bread artisan." Beca quietly 'ooh's at that. "She has a bakery. I used to go to school with her cousin."

She runs through the condiments that Beca has questions about and encourages her to try one if she wants to. They both decide on the aioli and Beca adds ketchup to her top bun. Tomato goes right on top of the base sauce, followed by the patties. Chloe places a slice of cheddar on both burgers before a bit of lettuce and a dollop of caramelized onions. They take their plates and beer to the couch, and Beca doubles back for the bottle.

"I definitely should not have had alcohol on an empty stomach," Beca says to her burger. Chloe nods and agrees even though she's probably interrupting a private moment.

It's not an Animal Planet feeding frenzy, but it's definitely a lion taking down an antelope. Normally, Chloe wouldn't be this tickled by such things, but there's something incredibly rewarding about watching someone enjoy something you put effort into creating. It's even more pleasing when it's someone like Beca.

Refined, musically-inclined, concert-composing, 'orchestral genius' Beca.

So, maybe Chloe had done some research on her neighbor in the downtime between their meetings. Again, not stalkerish; she's just curious and can't be bothering her neighbor at all hours. Facebook had given her a decent bit of information, but she'd also found articles written about the woman and her musical success. Chloe's impressed and humbled by the amount of achievements that Beca had drawn absolutely no attention to. It makes her wonder what other amazing things about the brunette she doesn't know of.

Beca sighs happily, chewing with her eyes nearly closed and rocking side to side like a kid with a treat. Chloe mentally thanks whatever happened to make this situation possible, because **Beca** is a treat. _**A snack**_ , she chortles internally before accidentally snorting aloud. A smooth brown brow rises in question, something that only gets a wink in response. It seems that Beca doesn't care that much, because she continues to eat until she's polished it off. There's a spot of sauce on the corner of her mouth that Chloe seriously considers licking off before taking a step back and just wiping at it with her napkin.

It still makes Beca blush and sputter, and that's not so bad, either.

* * *

Even though the burger helps with the alcohol, they also drink more. So here they are, sunk into the couch nursing glasses of the cider-boosted Belgian golden ale.

"Funny how the goopy excess from making cider can be used to add a new twist to a different product." Beca's eyes sparkle at Chloe's assessment.

"Yeah, it's like how they take the skins from winemaking to do other things with." Chloe slumps against Beca's arm. She bites her lip when Beca moves it to rest over the redhead's shoulders. "Don't you think the peppery, sharp notes mixed well with the burgers?" She nods, and Beca continues. "It's a fruity beer, so it's cool that there were apples in the patties, too. It really tied it all together." She nuzzles into Beca, drinking her beer quietly. "Hey, Chlo." Her insides jump at the nickname again, and she squirms.

"Yes?" Beca swirls her beer, just like earlier.

"Did you mean what you said?" Chloe scoots back enough to see the other woman's face, adjusting her glasses and looking into her eyes.

"What?"

"When you said that you'd teach me how to cook and stuff." Beca says it bashfully, like she's asking someone to dance with her for the first time. And it's so precious, with her eyes downcast and the fingers of her arm over Chloe's shoulder fidgeting. Chloe finishes her beer and sets the glass down on the table before bringing Beca's face up. When she can see the brunette's eyes, Chloe smiles softly.

"Of course I'll teach you. I'll show you everything that you want to learn."

Beca's face opens like the sun bursting through a storm and cutting away the rain. It's bright and happy and excited. It warms Chloe right up, and she has the presence of mind to remove the glass from Beca's hand before tackling her into the couch. Her neighbor understandably complains, harping on about drunken redheads before cracking a grin.

Yeah, maybe there was no need for her to tackle Beca so enthusiastically. But she **did** say that she's only human.

* * *

 **AN: I normally read through a few times for continuity and spell-check, but I only did a once-over in both for the final product. Please excuse my mistakes, and let me know what you think!**

 **Also, I'm entertaining thoughts about a reader's suggestion chapter for dinner ideas. Any meals that you guys want to read about? Feel free to also suggest a drink pairing, doesn't have to be alcoholic. Thanks again for joining me for Dinner at Beca's!**

 **Love, S.**


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